North Carolina Newspapers

mm ■v^‘ "EFkF; iJViVCCUj. MiXiiiy toi^ctlicr profit and cieliglit. I'rof/t the Odd K(,/w?«t’. i'.-..'.;i;cinni;ri-. 1 Ic h'. vVn - vi..-’ icr.l and i iidi.*. The lHl^sar iiUeriored, i ;in(J Ihc qnnncl rose.* so hij^lt as to thaw I I Ludivoc to tli'j spot. ! ! K:'il, ii) :i voice iilnio-it cliokcd with j ‘ pasbion, laid liis j;rievaiiC«;s hciote iiiin. ! Ti)(;i'C!sa, in a U>nu of. iniii;fiiaUon, coin-{ [)laiucd lo )kt I’athtr of liis iiisoluncu, ■ Tilt: lIUSSAIt’S SADDLK. Old Ludovic llartz always regarded bis sadUie witli the deejjcsl veiieialion, I',,nj appealed to liijii whether she wa:, anu ^et inure ajipeared nothiiig aboui not at lihcrtvto s.(.-let l any jwjlucr for it capable oi exciliiig his idolatry. It Uiu dance sue tiiouj^ht jnopcr. V waa a Tuikisn saddle, old, and deeply Jslaiiied with blooU ; yel, to the brave IwUuovie, It recalled a tale of other Uay^, wlicu, young, ardent and enthusiastic, lie Jiist Urew liis‘sword in deleucc ol Jiis CDuniry against its enemies. lie liaa been opj)osed in battle against the liostile invaders of nis native llun- jjary and many an Linbelieving tlog liad liis good sword smitten to tiie earth. A^'anous liad been tiie.fortune of tiie war, and too often was the holy cross dimmed by the lustre of the triuinpiiant rescent. Such sad disasters were sel dom alluded to by the brave hussar, but he loved to dwell on the successlul ac tions in which he had been engaged. It was in one of these fierce combats that, suddenly cut otffrom his party, he found himself surrounded by lour infu riated Turks. ‘ liut the recollection of you and yonr angel mother,’ .would Ludovic say to his daughter, ‘ nerved any arm. 1 w as assailed by all my op ponents. How three lell, 1 knew not; hut severe and long was the conllict \vith the last of my foes ; whose power ful arm was raised against me. Alrea dy 1 saw my wife a mournful widow '•anu my child latherless, and these fear- iul tliougnts iiilused new vigor in my arm ; 1 smote the inliuel dog lo death, r,“^ proper. xoU| iK.venosuch liberties I’ ihunderf.'i] ioilii Kail. ‘ Voii ;ire my betrotl.cd v.iic, and j as such, you belong to me alone*. j 'I'here.sa cast on him a sjnil'j fi;!! .of scorn and conlemj)*, Ij'.it it failed as .^I'.e looked to her fathe: , and a deadly pale ness over.spread her countcn,ance as she inquired, ‘ Father does this Jiian sp?ak truth? ^ He does my child,’ was tiie reply ; and she drojj])ed insensible at his feet. 'I'he young hussar now knelt down hesiiie her, passionately kisseil her fair forehead, and raising her in his arms, bore her to an ad joining apartment, iol- lowed by tho father and Karl. Thereba •slowly revived. At first she saw no one, and, breathing a deep sigh, mur mured, ‘It was alia horrid dream!’ An anguished groan startled her into perception’and agony. She looked up and saw her father standing before her, with folded arms and a countenance clouded with grief. Karl stood near with an exulting smile ; and the hussar knelt beside her, but his face was buried in his hands. She found it was no dream. She looked to her father, ‘ Fa ther, is there no hope ?’ ‘ None, my honor is pledged.’ She then turned to the hussar, and placed for a moment her cold hand in his ; then rising suddenly, liurleu him Ironi his steed, and rilled : threw herself at the feet of Karl. ‘Oh, him as he lay. At this moment several | Karl, have mercy! I love another— of the enemy appeared in sight, but 11 you do not love me—have pity on us !’ %vas too much exhausted lo renew the i By all the powers of heaven and hell, 'jierilous conflict. My gallant horse lay j you shall be mine Theresa! I aj)peal ■wounded and in ihe agonies ol death, j to your father. Will your father vio- 1 tnrevv myself on the Turivish courser | late his promise to the dead ? ‘ I will and forced nim on at his utmost sjjeed not,’ said l^udovio, w'ith solemnity, until 1 regained my squadron.—The tauuie was steeped in the blood of my foe, and mine mingled with it.—When a cessalion of hostilities permitted, the troops lo rest for a space from the hor- Tora of war, 1 hastened with the treas ure, wliich, during the campaign I had ; presence of her fatlier was no reylrumi irn(L in mv i.omr ! on her nure lenderncss. Her tears foil ‘ Then Theresa, exclaimed Karl, with fiendlike exultation, ‘ no power on earth shall save you from being mine !’ and thus saying he left the house. Therrsa rose from her knees, and threw herself into the arms of iier lover. The acquired, to my liomc, purchased the, fertile fields around my dweJIinjc, and '"‘'‘"'y countenance, bui his iorirotfor a season lh« m,snrlp« forgot for a season the miseries of w'ar. • , , , ,, rp. 111- 11. dovic was deeply moved, tie approacu 1 he good Ludovic would here pause. endoavD,.,.d lo calm l!.«r afiiic lie still relamed a lively recollection of| ciuii, and rclaled ihe circunistan ]iis lost wife, and he could not bear to narrate the circumstances of her illness and death. After that sad event, his liome became hateful to him, and he re- solved again to engage in the arduous duties of a soldier. The little Theresa was kindly adopted into the family of, iiis only brother, and there, after a lapse of some years, our good hussar found Jier blooming in youthful beauty. Ludovic arrived only in time to close file eyes of his brother, w'ho, on his dcath-bed, entreated him to bestow Theresa on his only sou, when they should have attamed a propei age.— Grateful for his almost parental carc of his child, and n.oved by the situation of his bi’Oiiicr, whose wnole heart seemed to b'‘ t,eiit on this union, Ludovic pro- miscii tiiat w’hen liis claughter should have attained ttie age cl' eighteen, she -ihmild Ijeeoine the wife of Kail ; i)i‘o- ridetl Karl himself desired tiie oonncx- 701) at tliat time ; litul satisfied with this pif'tr.i'.e, the old luaii died in jieai'C. 'I’hib tng:)gi nu'iit wa,s concealed from TheiL.'-a, buiit was kiiou-n to Karl, who ♦'xiilted in- the thought that this rich T)rize W'oiild one day be his. With low habits and a coai’se turn of mi nil, the delicate graces of 'I'heresa had 'no fharms for him, he loved her not, bul he loved her ^vea!lh which wnnlil one day be heis, and wliii'li he looked on 'vith a greedy eye. 'I’he tiiousand soft and nameless l'eeliiig:> which accomjia- My a generous and lender jiasslun, were unknov/n to Karl. It was a hard ^ask to him to attend his gentle iui.>- tress, nor did he c;ver feel dI.spOif;d to ])lay the part of a lover, e:vce[)t \vlu;n soi:h‘ other se* nied inclined to .stij.'prv Iiis place. It was at a rural yt/c given by Ludovic to his neighbors, at the ter- miiiation of an abundant haivest, that Kill! first •lioae openly to asseil his 1 itfht. He had taken it for granted that }ie should ojien the dance with Theresa. AVhat, tlien, was his indignation, whei. on * ntcring the apaitinent, he saw 'I'heresa, her slender waist encircled by ihe arm of a young hussar, moving in the graceful wait/, ? Theevide'iit supe- i“iority of his rival, whose well knit linib^, firm stej), and free and martial uir, formed a striking contrast to his OW’P clownish figure and awkward gail, only increased his ire, and, in violent w’ratfi.he advanced toThei’esa insisting on * is ritjht to ojien the datice with her. Tij -w'>a pleaded her CJigugeiTcnts ; he f»eisisted , £he rcfasc.i hi; re''.;uejt; and 11^ under which this promise had been : !)U! his concludin^;^ words, ‘ that he must huld it sacred,’ ihew tliem in‘.o a new parox- yam of }^rief. ‘AVe musi part, then, Arnhold,’ said the weeping'I'heresa ; we must j)art—ah! can we survive this cruel blow r’ *No,’ s;jid Arnold, ‘no.’ I cannot live wiiliout you ; let us once more entreat your faihei lo havt pity on usr’ and the youthful lovers threw themselves at his ieet. ‘Arnold ! said Ludovic, sternly, ‘ thou a soldier, and iisk me lo tarnish my honor I’ Arnold felt this ap peal, he started up, raised the wceppi^' There’sa, cutofVwidi his sabre one long briy;hl irt-ss, embraced and kissed her, placed her in the arms of her father, and. lied. Every passinj; day carried wilh it some portion of ilie fortitude of Theresa as if she saw the near aj)proach of the period which was to cosign her to a fate so dicadful. Three little wteks were all that lay between her and misery. Ludo vic endeavored to sooth her, but she would not be comforted. Had even her afleciions been disengaged, Karl would have been distasteful lo her ; but with art'ections placed on another, the idea of a uuion wiili him api>eared insupporta ble. ‘ My dear (.hiIII !’ would Ludovic say, interrupiing a [las.sionate hursi of gi i f. ‘by what inai;ic has ArnhoUl ^hinvd j)osscssioii of your heart !’ ‘lie is an hussar,’ replied Therfsa. There was stiUH’thing in this reply whicii moved Ludovic; he recullecied that he himseil had iminied the mind (d' his daughter v.illi sentinieijis of lespeet and esteeni i'of the character of a lyuod soldier; ami conscience rcniindcd hnn, that he often exalted the profes.'^ion uf arms al)ove the peaceful aiul uiioliu usive occupations of the husbandman. Was it w (Jiuk i lul, then, that 'i'hr !-sa should ha\e yii'ldcd liei* heart to one wlio possessed courage to defend her, and temlerness to soolh her under the aUlirtioi-.s ui'life Arn- hold dwelt near them; lie iiatl hren the early playmate of '1 lieresa and, with glouiiig cheeks and sparkling- eyes, they had ofu n listened to;.;elher tu tl^e war like exploit', wliich the g«j'.)d Lufiovic ilc- lighted to udi them; U to these ronversa- tions nuglit be attriljuleil ihe passionate dcMre of Ariiliold tu adopt the profession of arms. Acenstoineci to see them [)lav together as children and liking tlu so ciety of a !';ener»ju!i and s[iiiitetl boy, Ludovic lorgut the danger, when t!u-ir childhood passed av j\, of their ufVection assuming a totally diiieuMit character.— It uasso, and Liu!o\i(: now saw* wiih deep grid that his danghicr was unulier- ably aviached lo tlie yjuihful soldier. Ji'Thercta ^y;is uuliyppy, her faily’r \v;,s ' v No, i .. ./laa'icd his ov.‘^ ! ntf;‘ and on ciniirasling ilie clutr- j ac'.ersrf iht.'lwu ynu’Ji:?, a vlolv,iit con- fiicr li)s feelings and his duty a- roso 'n his ;>i’eas‘: but the siern honor of j tlie soldier triun.|'!ied, and he deeined !.;msclf bound lo i ouiplett the sacrifice. L nahle, liowevcr, to endure the siglu ol !i>;r grief, .he carried lier to ihe abode ol a ynujlilul female iViciid, who formerly resided near them, but on her marriage hail renioved to a village a!)out sixty miles distant. There he left Theresa af ter receiving her r^oleinn jiromise that si.e would return with him the day be- fure that on which she would cdm[)Iete her eighteenth year. ‘Father,’ said she, wilh streaming eyes, ‘1 have never de ceived you. Ifl iive, 1 will return; bul (to not grieve loo deeply, should my heart break in this feari’ul struggle. ’ The old hussar dashed away a tear which strayed down his scarred and sun burnt cheek, embraced his child and departed. Time wore gradually away, and at last the day arrived which was to seal There sa’s fate. It fotnd her in a slate of tor pid despair. Exhausted by her previ ous struggles, all seemed deadj bul her mind was awakened to new suiTering.— A friend arrived to conduct her to her lather. The good Ludovic lay, appa rently on the bed of death, and witii breathless impaiience I'heresa pursued her journey. Ou her arrival, her father’s sick room was not solilai'y; the detested Karl was there, and iliere too was the youlh!‘ul hussar—‘ My child,’said Ludovic, • nu days are numdered; m) fate must soon bt lecided, and, alas ! )i>urs also ! To my dying brother I soli-r'nly promised, that on this day I would (dVer you to his son f(;r his bride. VV'iihi,. i fulfilling my en gugement, I could not die in iicace; even the grave would afibrd no rest. C'an you sacrifice yourself for my future repose:’ ‘ I can—I will,’ cried the unfortunate Theresa, sinking on her knees, ‘so help me Heaven !’ * Heaven will bless a duti ful child !’ said Ludovic, wi'h fervour.— ‘Karl, draw near.’ Karl o!)eyed—I'he- rtsa shuddered. * K.arl,’ said Ln lovic, ‘you say you lo\e my child: c!i.;ris!i her, I conjure you, as you hojie for i'uture hajjpiness. In her yuu possess a irea- surc: but I must wai n you, slio will bring v()ii but one portion of my possessions.’ K.irl started and retreated a few steps.— •Thai, however/ continued Ludovic, ‘ V. Inch 1 look upon as my greatest earth ly treasure, 1 give you wilh my daughter. You, Karl, believe me to have son.e vir lues. Alas ! al ls ! you know not liie se cret sins whicii have sullied my i;!e—ilje ra;):r:e, the murder—but enough of this ! I have confessed to my spiritual father, and have obtained ahsoluiion for tne dark catal(gi,e—but on '.on.liuou lhai I leav'5i.all my wealth to iIk chur h as an atonement for my transgressions. 1 could not forget that I was a father; I pleaded Mie destitute s'ate of my child— 1 implored—I intreated—at length I wrung from the pious fatiier his consent that I should retain n»y greatest treasure for my Theiesa. I chose my saddle,— Keej) it, dear child, in rememl)rance of an airectioiiaie father. And you, Karl, are you saiislied to relinquish worldly goods lor ihe welfare of my soul.^ Are you coiiieni to lake my daughter with this portion ?’ ‘Fool !’ exclaimed Karl, ‘doting idiot! !iow dare you purchase exemption from punishment at my expense} Your wealth is mine j your wealth must be the portion ul my bride. I will reclaim it Irom those rapacious monks, and tear them from the altar !’ ‘ You cannot, you dare not,’ replied Ludovic, raising his voice in anger,‘my agreement with your father had refer ence lo niy daughter only;—my wealth formed no part of it.’ ‘Driveller! dotardi’ vociferated Karl, ‘ think you that I wdll accept a portion- >Iess bride r—You must seek some other fool for your i)Urpose; I renounce her.’ ‘(iive her to me, father !’ cried Arn hold, ‘ I swear to cherish and protect her while I live. Give her to me, and when she shall be the beloved wife of my oosom, I will live for her—aye, and die for her !’ Karl laughed in mockery. ‘ You value lile but liiile,’ said he, ‘to talk of sacri ficing it for a woman. I never knew one worih the trouble of winning, and least of all,'I'heresa. ’ '1 he young hussar laid his hand on his sabre. 'i'heresa threw herself between them. At live same moment Ludovic sj)rang Irom his couch, lore tlie covering from his head, snatched the saddle from the Wall where it hung, seized his sabre, with one stroke laid ni o])en, and a stream of gold bezants, oriental pearls, and sj)arkling jewels fell on the iloor.— *\\ reich 1 .vorn), vile clod of eanii! art liiou not justly punished.' Hence, rep tile! begone before 1 forget that thou art ol my blood I’ Ludovic raised his salire, and ihe dastardly Karl fled, wilhoutdar- ing to give utterance to the imprecation wiiich hung on his lijis. 'I'rampliiig under foot the costly jew els wiiich lay strewed around, Theresa rushed forward and embraced her father, reclaiming, ‘ Is not this a dream.^ Are you indeed restored lo me } Can this liliss be real r’ op.-i\e me, niy cl.ild,’ exclaimed udcMc. ‘the p^;r, I bcLii obliged tu gi\c ; 0iiv gentle h.iv.i.. Ivly c.; ^rt to make that wretch resign his claiu. to your haii.f has been sue esslul. (.ruJge not lha‘. part of vour store has been ap propriated to the holy church—not to purchase forgiveness ot the sins I men- lioned, and of which, thank Heaven, 1 am guiltless, Ijui to be '.lie blessedmeans oi saving vou Iriiin a miserable faie. Kneel down, my children—aye, support hei,— Arnhold—lay her innocent head on your bosom, and receive the lervent bcneJic- lion of an old hussar.’ From Blackwood*s Magazine. Pompeii.—All the world knows the sto ry of Pompeii J that it was a little Greek town of tolerably, commerce in its early day; that the sea, which once washed iis walls, subsequently left it in the midst of one of those delicious plains made by na ture for the dissolution of all industry in the Italian d>veller, and for the common places of poetry, in all the northern a busers of ihe pen; that it w as ravaged by every barbarian, who in turn was called a coufjueror on the Italian soil, and was successively the pillage of Carthaginian and of Roman, until at last the Augus tan age saw iis little circuit quieted in the centre of a colony, and man finding nothing more to rob, attempted to rob no more. When rnan had ceased his molesta tion, nature commenced hers, and this unfortunate little city was, by a curious fate, at once to be extinguished and pre served, to ])Crish from the face of the llomau empire. Sc to live when Rome was a nest of Monks and .Mummers, and her empire torn into iV.rgments for Turk, Kussian, Austrian, Prussian, and the wl'.oJe host (jf barbarian names that were once as the dust of her feet. In the year of the chrisiiau ei-a, 63, an earthquake si. nved the city on what tenure her lease was held. Whole streets were thrown down, and the evidences of a hasty re pair are still to be detected. I'rom this period, occasional warnings were given in slighi siiocks; until, in the year ’79, Vesuvius poured out all his old accumulation of terrors at once, & on the clearing away of the cloud of fire and ashes which covered Campania for four £.ys, Pompeii, with all its multitude, was gone. The Romans seem to have been as. fond of Villas as if every soul of them had made fortunes in Cheapside, k the whole southern coast was covered with the summer palaces of those lords of the world. Vesuvius is now a formida ble fountain for a house whose inhabi tants may not wish to be sucked into a furnace ten thousand fathoms deep, or roasted swZi aere aperto; but it was then a- sleep, and had never flung up spark or stone from lime immemoriak To those who look upon it now in its terrors; grim', blasted, and lifting up its sooty forehead .'imoug the piles of per petual smoke that are to be enlightened only by its bursts of fire, the very throne of Pluto and Vulcan together, no force of fancy may picture what it was when the Roman built his palaces and pavilions on its side. A pyramid of three thou sand feet high, painted over with gar- dt.-'.s, forest, vineyard and orchard, ri pening under the southern sun, zoned with colonades, and turrets, and golden roofs, and marble porticos, wilh the eternal azure of the Campanian sky for its canopy, and the Mediterranean at its feet, g'itierin^ in the colours of sunshine noon and evening, like an infinite 'Pur- key carpet led down from the steps of a throne—all this was turned into cindcrs, lava and hot water, on (if we cati trust to chronology) t!ie first day of Novem ber, Anno Domini TD, in the fir>>t year (jfihe Fmperor 'Pitus. 'Phe whole sto ry is told in the younger Pliny’s loiters; or, if tlie illustration of one who thought, himself born for a describer, J}io Cassius, besought, it will be found that this e- ruption was worthy the work it had to flo, and was a handsome recompense for the long slumber of the volcano. The continent, throughout its whole southern range, probably felt this vigorous awak ening. Rome was covercd with the ashes, of which Northern Africa, Egypt and Asia Minor had their share. The sun was turned into blood and darkness, a'd the people thought that the destruc tion of the world was come. At the close of the eruption, Vesuvius stood forth the naked giant ?hat he is ai this hour—the palaces and the gardens \\CJT. ;.ll and air--:he was sViin- eu with that cloud winch sllH st'.sU^jj crown of wralh upon his bro\\--tht; plain at bis fool, where Hercukr.oun^ and Pompeii spread their circuses tmcl temples, like children’s toys, was coy. ered with sand, charcoal and smoke^ and the whole was left for a mighty mor- al against the danger of trusting to the sleep of a volcano. The following dispassionate and vein just reflections are from the pen of the sensible editor of the Baltimore Ameri can. W’e recommend them to the con sideration of that class of “ right or wrong” politicians, who deem a differ ence of opinion to be good ground f(jr the bitterest hate and who gladly treat all who dissent (however honestly) iVoni their political orthodoxy with the tender mercies tliat the Spanish Inquisition wero wont to bestow upon heretics of another description. National Intdlii'encer. “ Party spirit is thought by many hon est politicians to be far from unfricncllv to free Governments. It is believed to beget vigilance on one side, and caution on the other. Since difference of opinion is unavoidable, is unavoidable, it is we:! that some good grows out of it ; ami,5,0 far as it proceeds, on the honest and cahn, conviction of either parly, it we.-eas ridi culous as it is useless to decry it. party spirit implies either rash and vio lent judgments, proceeding out of the heat of controversy, or a deliberate and systematic hostility to anobnoxiou.i p^r- ty, whether its measures be right or wrong. At hrs view an honesi .nan shrinks from the ideaof having his judg- ment besirayed, or his conscience sacri ficed, by either of these errors. “But it is often alleged, and oftcnc'. practised than avowed, that when a par ty in power is wrong, either in its prin ciples or in the general tenor of it-, measures, even its just acts may be hon estly assailed by this systematic opposi sition, for the purpose of weakeding itb influence, £c re-placing it by belter men. Besides that there is something in this course which shocks our natural integri ty, even its policy in the end is very questionable. Indiscrimniate abuse is ra ther serviceable to the abused. Men of a plain, calm way of thinking, suspect, in such cases, either the judgment or the honesty of the railer, and martyrs in pjU- lics, no less ihae. in religion, come it last to engage a sympathy in their behalf, from that universal indignation which men feel at injustice. “Those who iiave observed the course of the Opposition, in the last sessio'i of Congress, may probably deem t:.; m to have fallen into this error. Phe liriuc;- pal source of the obloquy of the present Adminstraiion with them, is its mock of coming into power. Were we to allow the points to be satisfactorily provyJ, that Mr. Adams holds his post in con tradiction to the wishes of the majority of the People, it is only an argument, a: last, against his re-election, and the con clusion would be far from following ilu: every act of his, chosen as he is, llie Ex ecutive of the country, is to be opposed whether right or wrong. We will no: assert that this has been done, and still less that every member of the Oppositi- lion has done so with his eyes open toil:- truth. That, on some points a difl’ereiicc of opinion has truly existed, it would be very rash in us 10 deny j but that tliis will account for every act of the Oppusi- lion, the People will find it diflicult to believe, when they remember the pr-jcec- dure of the last session. It seems bui too probable that, wliere a systemaiic hostility was not intended, al least tlic warmth of parly has obscured the percep tion of the truth, and, on either of these errors, a true lover of his country, and a wise citizen of a republic cannot look without disapprobation. “ I'or ourselves we can honestly say, that, whatever objections w'c might eii- lertuin against men in |)owc!’, as we rouKI not justify it to our consciences to d-cry measures which w'e believed salutary lo our common countrv, so we.deprecau- any passion of party which might lea^lu-. to misconceive ihem. How far the pit's ent Administration possesses the conh dence of the People, time w ill show ; but we feel persuaded for ourselv(‘s that measures, so far from deserving clamours of the opposition, have been faithfully directed to the interests of the country whose destinies are coinmiitC'. During the reign of Francis I. tho- ' were only two coaches in Paris—one b‘ longing to ihe Queen, and the other i- Diana of Poictiers. Men and wiMiien rode ou horseback; the greatest lords carrii^‘‘ their wives behind them ; and this cus tom lasted until the middle of the century. (iiganlie Tree —A tree of prodigioi^^ size has lately been felled in Bucks eouu- i>, Pa. It was 117 feet in height, 64 from the bull to ihe first branch, ana its greatest circumference was 20 Uet f’ inches.- It was perfectly sound, , Irom the concentric circles at the end 0. Ihe trunk, was estimated to be old'.